Severus Snape's Final Moments
by Cat97Hermione
Summary: self explanatory; from Snape's point of view in the final moments before his death. pretty quick, not brilliant, just a quick story on his thoughts before his death. COMPLETE!


**Unfortunately, I do not own Harry Potter. That honour goes to the amazing J.K. Rowling.**

**Snape's Last Moments.**

As soon as the Dark Lord began speaking of the Elder Wand as though it was not his own, Snape knew the Dark Lord thought that he needed to kill him for the want to work properly for him. Snape didn't need occlumency for this; it was laced in his words, written all over his face. Snape's heartbeat quickened; when he'd imagined his death, he had hoped to explain everything, do die after claiming his true allegiance to Dumbledore and Lily... Lily... but here he was, alone with the Dark Lord in the place he hated- the Shrieking Shack about to be killed. Snape's heartrate was ridiculously high now, but he was determined to keep a blank face. He'd lied to the Dark Lord many times before... maybe if he played his part well he could convince him that his own death would change nothing... but it would, and he knew that. Maybe he could offer to get the boy, and then not return? He needed to talk to the boy. Nagini was under protection. This was obviously the moment Dumbledore had forseen... had warned him about. He needed to tell the boy, but even that would be difficult. How was he to tell Potter's son that he must die, when the boy didn't trust him? No... one thing at a time. He had to focus on getting out of Lupin's hiding place before he could think about the boy's unpleasant death.

"**My Lord- let me go to the boy-"**

That was what he wanted to do, but not for the reason the Dark Lord believed. The boy must know... but perhaps he already did? Was there a chance that Potter was here, watching? No. That was impossible. And yet... and yet... it felt like he was. Snape knew when people were invisible near him... he'd been around the older Potter for too long during his time at school. He was sure there was someone invisible near him. But how could that be the boy? Why would he be _here_ of all places? No. He needed to listen to the Dark Lord. His life was at stake.

"**All this long night, when I am on the brink of victory, I have sat here," said Voldemort, his voice barely louder than a whisper,**

"**wondering, wondering, why the Elder Wand refuses to be what it ought to be, refuses to perform as legend says it must perform for its rightful owner... and I think I have the answer."**

Snape realised that he, too, had the answer of its true owner, and it did nothing to help him. The Malfoy boy had disarmed Dumbledore at the top of the astronomy tower that night... but he couldn't sell him out. He was too young to die for a foolish cause. He said nothing. He was going to die, those pitiless red eyes were telling him so. He was going to die like a man, though. He was not going to beg for mercy.

"**perhaps you already know it? You are a clever man, after all, Severus. You have been a good and faithful servant, and I regret what must happen."**

"**My Lord-"**

Snape stopped himself quickly. The Malfoy's boy was not going to die if he could prevent it. Snape knew that his life was doomed to misery and lies; it had been ever since he sold Lily to the Dark Lord all those years ago. And he would see Lily again...

'**The Elder Wand cannot serve me properly, Severus, because I am not its true master. The Elder Wand belongs to the wizard who killed its last owner. You killed Albus Dumbledore. While you live, Severus, the Elder Wand cannot truly be mine.'**

"**My Lord!" Snape protested, raising his wand.**

Snape did not know what he was going to say. He only knew that he had to protest, even if it was just to keep up the act. He thought about Dumbledore... He had been the true owner of the wand, even though he had not killed its last owner, Grindelwald. Snape couldn't say that, however; the Dark Lord would make the connection with Malfoy. Bellatrix had seen to it that the Dark Lord had known every word that was spoken, every movement made on the astronomy tower that night.

"**It cannot be any other way," said Voldemort.**

Snape knew that, at least, was true. He couldn't direct the Dark Lord's anger at anyone else. Too many had lost their lives for him, because of him. He couldn't sell the Malfoy boy out- he was already betraying Lily.

"**I must master the wand, Severus. Master the wand, and I master Potter at last."**

And Snape knew his time was almost up. He thought about his death itself, now. He knew the Dark Lord liked to play with his victims, and he didn't want to lose his composure. He had played his part well... Perhaps it would be quick- just one simple curse and he could join Lily. But he knew, somehow, that would not happen. The Dark Lord believed the Elder Wand to be his. He believed that he could not use his wand to kill him. Snape knew he had to stop thinking about that. There was one way that he could see the Dark Lord murdering him, and it was vile. He just hoped it never came to that... 'Lily,' he thought. 'I'm coming...'

**And Voldemort swiped through the air with the Elder Wand. It did nothing to Snape, who for a split second seemed to think he had been reprieved:**

Snape knew, of course, that it couldn't be. He hoped, though, against hope, that the Dark Lord couldn't think of a way to murder him involving that giant snake that marked the end of Potter's life; he was not granted his wish, however.

**But then Voldemort's intention became clear. The snake's cage was rolling through the air, and before Snape could do anything more than yell, it had encased him, head and shoulders, and Voldemort spoke in Parseltongue:**

"_**Kill.**_**" **

And Snape knew that he was going to suffer... he only hoped that one day, perhaps the Malfoy boy would know what he did. That was impossible. Again, Snape was visited by the sense that Potter was nearby. He couldn't explain it, it was like a seventh sense (**balance is your sixth sense, if anyone didn't know**). He hoped he was. Maybe Potter would come... he could give him his own memories of Lily... and Dumbledore's orders, and maybe the boy would trust him. Then he remembered what was about to happen to him now, in the Shrieking Shack. He lost his composure for a split second.

**There was a terrible scream.**

And then he struggled to pull himself together. He was not weak, he was not a _coward_.

**Harry saw Snape's face lose the little colour it had left, it whitened as his back eyes widened, as the snakes fangs pierced his neck, as he failed to push the enchanted cage off himself, as his knees gave way, and he fell to the floor. **

It was as though the snake's venom had taken control of his body. His mind was clear, but Snape was aware of his body doing strange things. He felt like the passenger in his body; he no longer had any control. And yet, he fought to keep a hold of his mind- the one thing he had left, to keep his composure. He was _sure_ the Potter boy was nearby- his sense had never yet failed him, and even as he was dying, and blood was pouring from his body, he remembered his instructions from Dumbledore.

"**I regret it," said Voldemort coldly.**

And Snape knew there was no regret, no remorse, and a hate filled him, stronger than ever before, he almost thought it would overpower the snakes venom. It certainly cleared his mind, more thoroughly than ever before; than any amount of occlumency could hope to achieve. That man- for he was not a Lord, he was too cowardly' was the reason Lily was dead. The reason so many were dead. The reason he now lay on the ground in that hated place, with blood gushing from a magical wound in his neck. The reason why, that night, Lily's son was going to walk to his own self-destruction. The reason why horrible, illegal curses were practiced on eleven year olds. This anger gave him strength, just enough to gain control of his limbs again. He was going to die, he knew, but he wanted someone to understand _why._ Then he could see his Lily again...

**He turned away; there was no sadness in him, no remorse. He pointed the wand at the starry cage holding the snake, which drifted upwards, off Snape, who fell sideways on to the floor, blood gushing from the wounds in his neck. Voldemort swept from the room without a backwards glance, and the great serpent floated after him in its huge protective sphere.**

Snape tried not to think about Potter, and his unfinished mission given to him by Dumbledore. He didn't want to think about these things. He wanted to die at peace with himself, so he thought about Lily. Yet even Lily couldn't bring him peace... it was his fault she was dead... his fault she married Potter... if only he hadn't called he a Mudblood... He was losing blood quickly now, his heart was pumping blood twice as quickly now, around his body and out his neck. Maybe it was better this way, quicker this way. He needed to apologise to Lily... He couldn't keep her safe... and he couldn't protect her son, either.

**Harry took off his invisibility cloak and looked down upon the man he hated, whose widening black eyes found Harry as he tried to speak**

And there was so much to tell the boy, with so little time. Yet he had come. Lily's son had come, and yet... and yet... Snape had the task of telling the boy that he was destined to die. The expression in his eyes was terrible. Snape felt guilty. He had never truly realised that Harry was Lily's son... he looked too much like James Potter. But Potter would never look at him like that. Lily was gazing at him as he lay dying on the ground. Snape mentally shook himself. His time was almost up, but he had a job to do. Dumbledore had said the boy would arrange things properly so that his death was by no means in vain. He had to do this. It was _for the greater good_ as Dumbledore would have so aptly put it. Both of their deaths would be _for the greater good._

**Harry bent over him; and Snape seized the front of his robes and pulled him close.**

He had to do this now, while he still had the strength. Snape was losing blood quickly, and he knew he only had a few more minutes. It took most of his remaining strength to gather together the memories the boy would need; he needed the boy to trust him. He had to think of him as Potter's son. He couldn't bear to send Lily's only child to his death, no matter what the consequences would be _for the greater good._ It was so difficult, though. Lily was gazing at him through those brilliant green eyes. No. That was Potter's son.

**A terrible rasping, gurgling noise issued from Snape's throat.**

"**Take...it... Take...it..."**

**Something more than blood was leaking from Snape. **

Snape looked into Harry's face and thought about what he was about to learn. No amount of will power could save him from the guilt that joined in with the spasms that were bringing his own death closer. He could not envy the boy at all. He was dying, slowly dying from punctures in his neck from his old _masters _pet snake, but he couldn't envy the boy now. His own walk to self destruction was going to take more courage that he himself had ever had. Yet he knew the boy would do it. He was Lily's son. He would do whatever it took to save his friends. He realised why Lily was put in Gryffindor. The hat had not made a mistake, he could not pretend that anymore. She and her son had more courage that everyone else he had known put together. Including Dumbledore. Dumbledore. This was his fault. Somehow, blaming the old man calmed him just a little. _Lily_ he thought. _Please forgive me..._

"**Look...at...me..." he whispered. The green eyes found the black.'**

And Snape knew that Lily had forgiven him. For she was there, she had come to collect him. Snape died, gazing into the brilliant green depths of his only love's eyes. _Lily... you came..._

**and Snape moved no more.**


End file.
